Silver Linings
by PrincessTverski
Summary: Lady Trevelyan discovers Commander Cullen in the midst of a lyrium withdrawal.


Elena smiled to herself as she pushed open the heavy door to Cullen's office. She'd returned from Emprise du Lion last night, and though she had wanted to speak with him first thing in the morning, Josephine had cornered her about their impending trip to Halamshiral. Now she finally had a free moment, she need to see her Commander.

"Cullen, you're going to kiss me when you hear this news!" She teased, stepping into his office.

Well, she wished he'd kiss her. A girl could only drop so many hints. Maybe it was time to spell things out.

She stopped short, her musings cut off as an eerie feeling shivered up her spine. The office was dead quiet, and Cullen was nowhere in sight.

"Cullen?" She called again, wondering if perhaps he was sleeping upstairs.

She hesitantly crept towards the ladder, and when she didn't hear a response, she made her way up. As her head cleared the upper floor, she let out a gasp, her heart slamming against her chest.

"Oh, Maker! Cullen!"

She scrambled up the last few rungs, and skidded across the floor, kneeling next to his prone form. He lay at the foot of his bed, limbs twisted as if he had been writhing in agony. He was half dressed–his white linen shirt untied and his armor still on the armor stand; Elena wondered how long he'd been laying on the floor.

With shaking hands, she felt around for a pulse, but her fingers were trembling too much for her to feel anything. With a growl of frustration, she pressed her head to his chest, straining to hear the beat of his heart.

A sigh escaped her lips. His skin was warm, and his heart beat a steady _thump-thump_ against her cheek. She sat back on her haunches and cupped his face.

"Cullen? Cullen can you hear me? It's Elena. I need you to wake up."

Though she knew he was alive, tears still stung her eyes, running down her face to fall against his cheek. Thoughts unbidden flashed through her mind–the Inquisition without its stalwart Commander, War Council meetings without his dry humor and valuable insight. No warm golden eyes watching her as she trained, nor gentled hands to correct her form. He was such a solid, calming presence in her life, such an integral part of the Inquisition that he just _couldn't_ leave them.

"Cullen, please, I need you."

Though his eyes remained closed, he frowned and Elena's heart leapt into her throat. Perhaps everything would be fine; perhaps he was alright, no worse for wear. With a groan, Cullen opened his eyes, squinting up at her. She watched as his vision focused on her face, and his frown deepened.

"What? Who…why are you crying?" His voice was soft, but the confusion in his eyes made Elena fear the worst had not yet passed them.

"I'm crying because I've never been so frightened in my life. I thought–I thought you were…" _dead_. She couldn't make herself say it.

Gingerly, Cullen pushed himself into a sitting position and leaned back against his bed, breathing hard. She could see tight lines of pain around his eyes, and she knew even that little effort had been difficult for him. She was familiar enough with the effects of lyrium addiction and withdrawal; her own brother was a Templar, and she'd spent enough time visiting him in the barracks to have learned a thing or two.

Elena looked down at her knees, trying to get her emotions in check, when she felt the warmth of his hand cup her cheek.

"A woman as beautiful as you should never have cause for tears," he murmured, his thumb swiping across her cheek to brush her tears away.

Her eyes snapped up, fixing on his golden gaze. "Cullen, do you know who I am?"

He smiled as his thumb trailed over the curve of her cheek and swept her bottom lip sending tingles of longing through her body. "I'd like to know you better."

Her breath caught in her throat–was he _flirting_ with her? She covered his hand with her own, pressing her face into his touch, memorizing the feeling of his warmth, of his gentle but calloused hand against her face.

"Cullen, it's me, Elena, Inquisitor Trevelyan, Herald of Andraste. You're my Commander, General of the Inquisition's army, does this…does any of this sound familiar?"

She watched him carefully; slowly understanding began to dawn in his amber eyes. He dropped his hand from her face and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Maker's breath. Inquisitor, I apologize," he muttered, though if he was apologizing for touching her or for being ill, she wasn't sure. "How long was I unconscious?"

She bit her lip, hating the feeling of him pulling away from her. "I'm not sure. I found you like this a few minutes ago."

Cullen sighed as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths. Elena wasn't sure if he wanted her to stay or go; she certainly didn't want to leave him, fearful of another episode.

"Does this happen often?" She ventured.

"No, less and less frequently the longer I've been off lyrium," he paused and she could tell there was more he wanted to say. Hesitantly, she covered his knee with her hand and gave it a gentle squeeze in hopes that it was a comforting gesture.

"I think it's taking me longer to recover each time it happens, though they happen less often," his voice was soft, as if he was admitting his confession to not only her, but himself.

"Have you spoken with a healer about it?"

He shook his head. "No. It's rare enough for Templars to quit lyrium and survive this long–a healer wouldn't have anything useful to tell me."

They lapsed into silence before Cullen stood and offered a hand to her. She took it and let him pull her up. There were so many things she wanted to ask him–how long did his lapses in memory last? Did he ever get them without blacking out? _Did he truly think her beautiful?_

But she wasn't sure if now was the time.

"Well, anyway, I guess I'll let you rest…" she trailed off, and turned towards the ladder.

"Did you mean it?"

The question was so soft, she wasn't sure she hear him at first. Slowly, she turned around to face him once again.

"Mean what?" She said with caution.

Cullen rubbed the back of his neck, as if embarrassed that he'd allowed himself to speak. "That you needed me?"

She didn't hesitate to answer. "Yes."

Elena wrapped a lock of hair around her finger, the twirling motion soothing. She chanced a look up at him through her eyelashes. "Did you mean it when you said I'm beautiful?"

A smile spread across his face, the same warm, charming smile he had given her when he'd first woken up, before he recognized his surroundings. "Maker's breath, _yes_."

He made to go to her, but his steps faltered, a look of pain splashing across his face. Cullen barely managed to grip his bedpost to keep himself upright. Elena rushed to his side, looping his arm over her shoulders. Gently, she steered him towards the bed.

"Why don't you rest a bit? I'll let the runners know you're not to be disturbed."

She helped him ease into bed and pulled the covers up around his big body. Though she felt slightly silly mothering a grown man, she could tell he appreciated the gesture. With a shy smile, she leaned down a brushed her lips across his cheek, his stubble scratching sweetly against her mouth. As she pulled away, Cullen grasped her chin and gently tugged her back down, until their mouths touched in a sweet, soft caress.

"You missed," he murmured against her lips before letting her go.

Elena couldn't help the smile that spread over her face. "I'll see you this evening, alright. Come to my chambers when you're feeling better?"

He nodded. "It's a promise."

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